Chapter 36
Caroline
Caroline hadn’t slept. She lay awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling while the shape of her marriage unraveled piece by piece in her head. Every creak of the house reminded her that Jacob was still here, but no longer in their bed. The space beside her had never felt so cold.
By morning, she had pieced herself together just enough to greet her parents when they dropped the kids back home.
She’d fried eggs, poured juice, even joked about Grandma spoiling them too much during their sleepover.
Her voice had sounded almost normal, but every word dragged in her chest, like it cost more than she had to give.
With the kids at school, the house was quiet again. She hated it. Hated how everything looked the same—the counter wiped clean, the coffee pot dripping, the faint smell of toast still lingering in the air. But none of it felt like the life she thought she was living. It was a replica, a cruel joke.
Jacob sat at the kitchen island, hunched over his coffee as if it held an answer. His shirt was wrinkled, his hair uncombed, and his eyes bloodshot. He looked like hell. At least she wasn’t the only one carrying it on her skin.
She didn’t speak, because she wanted him to squirm in it. Finally, his voice scraped out. “I’m so sorry.”
Caroline snorted. “Try something else.”
Sorry—what a useless word. Sorry was for forgotten anniversaries, for snapping in traffic, for spilling wine on a rug. Sorry wasn’t big enough for the kind of betrayal that gutted a marriage.
“I told the studio I couldn’t make it to the press meeting today,” he said quietly. “Said it was a family emergency.”
“Bold of you,” she said, gripping the sponge from the sink just to keep her hands busy, “to still use the word family.”
Her words landed like a hit; the wince that cracked across his face was proof of it. Good.
He looked at her fully then, jaw tight, voice broken. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“No?” she said, squeezing the sponge. “Could’ve fooled me, after what you two did.”
Jacob grimaced. “I deserve that.”
“You deserve worse,” she said flatly when he didn’t argue.
Another beat stretched between them before he cleared his throat. “I’ll move out. I’ll have someone find a rental today. I’ll cover everything. The kids won’t feel a thing. I’ll keep it clean.”
That was Jacob in a nutshell. Always ready with a plan—tidying disaster, containing it, and dressing it up so it wouldn’t spread.
She used to love that about him, that calm steadiness during storms. Now it just made her sick.
She leaned back against the counter with her arms folded. “You’ve already made your choice.”
His gaze lifted, heavy with grief, but there was no uncertainty in it. That absence of doubt was what cut deepest. “You really fucked it all up,” she whispered, her voice catching on the words.
“I swear I wasn’t trying to,” Jacob said. “It just… happened. And once it did—”
Her words finished his. “There was no going back.”
He exhaled like the truth of it drained him. “Yeah.”
The echo of that single syllable rang through her like a bell she wanted to smash. Silence thickened between them again until he broke it. “There’s something I need to ask. I don’t deserve it, but—”
Her stomach twisted. “Of course. Here it comes.”
His eyes locked on hers. For once, he didn’t hide behind the cool restraint that usually carried him through any crisis. He looked raw and exposed. “Don’t say his name.”
Caroline blinked. “Excuse me?”
“To the press,” he clarified. “Or anyone who’ll run with it. Say I cheated. Say I ruined the marriage. I deserve all the blame. Just… leave Liam out of it.”
“You want me to protect him,” she said, disbelief dripping from every word.
Jacob’s voice cracked in a way that startled her. “No. Protect his wife. She’s due in a couple of weeks.”
For a moment, Caroline just stared, and then a wave of disgust washed over her. “Jesus Christ, Jacob. You’re a fucking mess.”
“I know.”
She hated that he looked like he was already punishing himself harder than she ever could.
“And I’m supposed to cover for him?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Cover for her. She doesn’t deserve this. Not with a baby about to come.”
Her jaw tightened until it ached, because he wasn’t wrong.
She remembered being pregnant twice. Remembered how fragile it all felt near the end, how you barely held yourself together through the exhaustion and the hormones.
The thought of some woman lying in a hospital bed, blindsided by scandal?
Caroline might have hated Jacob in this moment, but she wasn’t cruel.
Her voice wavered when she spoke. “I won’t say his name, but not for you. ”
“I know.”
“I’ll lie to the world,” she said, her hands trembling now, “because no woman should have to hold a newborn while watching her husband’s betrayal splashed across headlines.”
Jacob’s head bowed. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Caroline looked at him—really looked. At the man who used to be her anchor. At the stranger who had broken her heart. She wanted to hate him more than she did. She wanted the clean lines of rage to carry her through this, but grief blurred everything and left her hollow and aching.
“Get out of my kitchen.”
He obeyed, his footsteps retreating down the hall.
She stayed behind, hands braced on the counter, chest heaving. The silence pressed down on her until even her own breath felt foreign. Years of marriage, years of building a life together, and this was what remained: a man walking away, leaving her to stare at the ruins.